


Sectionals

by carpelucem



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AU, Couches, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck uses his powers of persuasion to convince Yancy spending a Saturday couch shopping is worth his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sectionals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halostatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halostatic/gifts).



> Miss [halostatic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/halostatic) asked for domestic Chuck and Yancy buying a new couch. ♥

"Get up, Becket." 

Yancy's eyes are barely open before he's dragged from the bed, arm nearly separating from his shoulder with the force Chuck is tugging him up. 

"What time is it?" Yancy scrubs a hand over his face, trying to muster the strength for a glare at being pulled from his peaceful slumber on his only day off this week (and a dream where Chuck was on his hands and knees, begging really sweetly), but Chuck's just standing in the doorway, fully dressed and tapping his foot against the hardwood. His glower is kind of adorable and Yancy just eyes him for a moment, trying to fully appreciate that Chuck's the one who wakes him up and lies next to him at night instead of giving in to the urge to throttle him. 

"So why'd you drag me out of bed at ass o'clock on a Saturday?" 

Chuck thumbs toward the living room. "Wedding season’s over, you’re finally off, and we’re going couch shopping, you lazy sod. The day has come we're getting rid of that fucking futon." 

Yancy vaguely remembers a conversation from the night before that started with a yelp when Chuck landed on the broken slat and ended with Yancy cajoling him into bed with a promise of a new couch soon. 

He wasn't expecting it to be eight hours later. Granted, the futon was old and broken down, a remnant of the days he and Raleigh lived together and the only piece of furniture Raleigh had ever bought himself. Nostalgia notwithstanding, it was a piece of junk and Yancy was meaning to toss it. He'd just been too distracted with Chuck moving in and his propensity for fucking on every surface that held still. 

Yancy must get that look in his eye because Chuck sees the perfect opportunity for some positive reinforcement. His mood shifts quick as a chameleon's coloring and he pounces.

"Hey Yance?" Chuck drawls, pulling up close, trailing blunt fingertips over Yancy's still-bare chest. 

"Yeah kid?" Smiling at the shiver and the rippling goosebumps over Yancy's skin that his touch brings, Chuck cuddles in, rubbing his face against Yancy's neck. Yancy's fingers immediately card into Chuck's hair and he could fall back into bed just like this, warm and close, Chuck pliant and heavy against his body. 

"Put your fucking clothes on, _babe_." 

Yancy's eyes fly open and he shoves Chuck away. "You're a mouthy little brat, you know that?"

“Takes one to know one, sunshine.” Chuck’s smile is wide as he saunters out of the room, just enough of a roll in his hips to ensure Yancy's paying attention. "Besides, you love it." 

"You’re damn lucky I do!" he hollers into the empty hallway. Yancy finds a clean shirt hanging in the closet and decides his jeans are still acceptable for a quick Saturday trip to the furniture store. 

\--

Three hours later, Yancy's head is pounding - too many styles, fabrics, throw pillow options. The first couch he'd sunk into was a big brown leather number, perfectly slouchy with just enough give to be comfortable for napping but still firm enough for sitting. He'd have been great with saying yes immediately, handing over his credit card, and stealing Chuck away for breakfast, but his luck's just not that good today. Chuck's asking questions about each model, testing them out, taking measurements down in the notebook he's brought along. He barely asks for Yancy's opinion (not that it matters, Yancy had lived with a broken futon for a year. His ass is comfortable with anything.), leading the saleswoman on a merry chase around the shop.

Yancy's starting to wonder if he's being punished for oversleeping when Chuck steers them back to the same brown leather sofa they tried out at the start. He pushes Yancy down in the corner and settles next to him. Chuck’s weight is warm against Yancy's side and he kicks his feet up on the ottoman in front of the couch. 

"What do you think about this one?" 

Yancy tries not to huff in frustration, instead carefully schooling his response. "I like it. Comfortable, goes in our apartment, will fit up the stairs, and I can nap on it. You?"

"Mmm." Chuck stretches and his arm slides behind Yancy's head. Long fingers trail down his spine and settle right at the hollow of Yancy's back. They press in lightly, and Chuck tilts his head so it rests on Yancy's shoulder. "Yeah, I think I like it, too." 

This time, Yancy does give a long-suffering sigh. "Three hours, Hansen. We've been here THREE HOURS when we could have just picked this one. We could have had breakfast and gone back to bed, which by the way, were my plans for today." 

"Calm it Becket, just had to be sure." 

"Sure of what?" Chuck's fingers keep working at the base of his spine, snaking beneath the hem of his shirt. He leans over, so his mouth's snug against Yancy's ear. 

"Sure I was picking the right one I wanted you to bend me over." 

Yancy coughs, sputtering in shock, eyes darting around to see if the saleswoman is still lurking nearby. Luckily, the place is pretty quiet for a Saturday morning and they're alone. 

"Don't like that thought? How about I was looking for the perfect one you could lie back on while I ride you? Or maybe the exact height I need when I'm on my knees, sucking you off?" 

And yeah, now that Yancy takes a look, this particular model would fulfill all three of those requirements. Except height and depth and length aren't really numbers he can process right now, unless they pertain to Chuck's very capable body pressed tight along his own. 

"Left a Becket speechless, I'll have to mark it down in my diary." Chuck's fingers curl in, the nails cutting into Yancy's skin just a touch. It's just enough to keep him from flipping Chuck over on the couch right there and filling one of those specific needs, which is good because the saleswoman ambles back over, a hopeful smile on her face. 

"So, what else can I show you?" 

"Pretty sure we're sorted here," Chuck smiles sweetly, and his arm returns to his side. "What do you think, love?" 

"This is great, we'll take it." 

Her eyes gleam and she hustles off to get the sales slip. "I’ll double check, but I’m sure we can have that delivered this afternoon, if you'd like?" 

"Perfect," Yancy calls after her, before turning to meet Chuck's deceptively innocent look. 

“Now, was that so hard?” 

"You made some convincing arguments. And you owe me food." Yancy tightens his grip on Chuck’s hand when he helps him off the couch, pulls him in for a kiss. “If you can handle it, I mean Saturday morning brunch and buying furniture together? We’re so domestic.”

“You’re just easy - offer you food and sex and you’re buying me a couch.” They’re hand in hand as they walk through the store to the registers. “Speaking of, I’m starving.” 

“Like I said, you can be persuasive.” Yancy signs off the charge slip, thanks the saleswoman, and ushers Chuck out of the store, into the car. “Seems like you’d better fuel up, Hansen, that was some big talk in there.”

Chuck’s brows rise in challenge as he shifts the car into gear. “Dunno Yance, sleep-deprived and starving as you are, I hope you can keep up.”

Yancy just laughs and rolls the window down. “I just bought you a couch. Gonna make you earn every penny.”


End file.
